


Missed a Spot

by EnglishPlant



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: AU i guess?, M/M, Pre-Relationship, they like each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 12:28:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15219173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnglishPlant/pseuds/EnglishPlant
Summary: Tord just wanted to wash his hair.





	Missed a Spot

**Author's Note:**

> For my friend Darkmoonwriter, who wanted Tomtord, but didn't specify what exactly.

Red hoodie tossed unceremoniously on the kitchen counter next to a small stack of dirty dishes, the light above the kitchen sink the only light in the room, Tord muttered rather angry curses to himself as he tried to get the temperature of the water right. 

Of course the plumbing in the shower had to break on a holiday weekend. Of course Matt had to be taking an eon to give himself a sponge bath in the bathroom when he, Tord, had actually worked all day and needed to shower. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to shower, it was more a fact that after skipping a shower for two days in a row and spending both days in the lab his hair was greasy, and he suspected the odd smell was him, that Tord realized he needed to shower. 

He took his hair out of the messy ponytail he had shoved it in after the strands had fallen one too many times in front of his face, flipped his hair forward, and jammed it under the running water. Praying that any food that might have been in the sink had long since washed down, he ran his fingers through the tangled strands, once he was satisfied it was all wet, he reached out, hand fumbling for the travel shampoo bottle he found lurking in his room. Finding it, he flipped the cap and squeezed some out onto his hand. 

Grumbling a few more choice curses at Matt’s decision to spend what was now going on two hours grooming himself, Tord tried to confine the water dripping from his hair to the sink. 

He heard Tom before he saw him. Smelled him too. Footsteps slightly too loud in the quiet house, reeking of cigarettes and alcohol, it wasn’t difficult to tell Tom was back from the bar. 

“What are you doing?” Tom took one look at Tord, with his hair plastered to his scalp, soapy suds running down his neck, a little trail of water ran down one forearm, and laughed. 

“What does it look like Thomas?” Tord retorted, grateful his back was turned. 

Tom gave what he probably thought was an intelligent reply: Tord must have gotten lost trying to find the shower. 

“Matt’s going to use all the hot water, and I can’t wait any fucking longer dammit,” Tord snapped. 

“Okay, okay, I get it commie. You continue. . . washing your hair in the sink,” Tom said, opening the fridge, searching for something that was still edible. 

Tord shot him a dirty glance. 

Tom felt Tord’s gaze on him and turned. He noticed a few strands of Tord’s hair had fallen from the mass of hair piled on his head, and was rather surprised to see how long it was. The strands fell past his collarbone, down to about his shoulders. Tom felt himself idly wondering what Tord’s hair would look like completely down. 

“What,” Tord asked suspiciously, noticing the stare. 

“Nothing,” Tom replied shutting the refrigerator door. 

Tord muttered something under his breath and shoved his head back under the water. Tom watched him, bent over, hips pressed into the counter, a few spots of water near the shoulders on the old white t-shirt Tord was wearing. 

Tord pulled his head back, feeling like he had washed all of the soap out, and reached for the towel. 

“You missed a spot,” Tom blurted. 

Tord’s eyes narrowed a bit, he turned to look at Tom. He tilted his head to the side slightly, chin jutting up, as if to invite Tom to elaborate. 

“There’s still some soap, in your hair,” Tom said a bit nervously. 

Tord wordlessly turned back around and shoved his head under the sink. He started a bit when he felt Tom’s hand on his shoulder. 

“Let me help.” 

“I’ve got it, Jehovah, thanks,” Tord snapped. 

“You’re missing it. It’ll take me two seconds,” Tom said, withdrawing his hand. 

Tord silently acquiesced. He allowed Tom to turn him around so his back and shoulders were leaning back against the thin strip of counter, hair falling into the sink. He looked up at Tom, then decided that was weird and focused his gaze on the wall behind him. 

Tom felt Tord relax as he directed the water over his head, washing the shampoo out. He hesitantly ran his fingers through the soft strands, starting at the top of Tord’s head and working his way down. He glanced at Tord, noticing the other man’s eyes had shut.   
“I didn’t say stop,” Tord said, eyes staying closed.   
Tom repeated the motion, fingers gently massaging Tord’s scalp. A small sigh escaped Tord, and he blushed faintly, hoping Tom didn’t notice. Tom noticed both, but elected not to say anything, one hand running through the silky strands of hair, the other still holding the sink side nozzle. They stayed like that for several minutes. 

Eventually Tord cracked an eye open. “I think the shampoo is gone,” he said awkwardly, giving a short cough. 

To save himself from the ensuing awkward situation Tom agreed, spraying Tord in the face with water before darting out of the kitchen and into the house, cackling at Tord’s angry shout. 

“Stupid asshole,” Tord muttered, grabbing the towel and drying his face off. As he wrapped his hair in the towel his thoughts drifted to how good Tom’s touch felt. He blushed. Shit.


End file.
